


I Forget How Cold It Can Be

by stardust_and_sunlight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (as you would expect from an apocalyptic fic), Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ep and Cosette are travelling together, F/F, and killing zombies, do you like Ep and Cosette being badass and also adorable? then this is the fic for you, idk it's very cute, there's an apocalypse, there's some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_and_sunlight/pseuds/stardust_and_sunlight
Summary: Éponine scoffed, angry at herself. She could take on an infected or a gang of humans with a glare and a knife, but she couldn’t tell her travelling companion and only friend that she had feelings for her?(There's an apocalypse. Éponine loves Cosette.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> A NEW FIC! For the first time in a while! How exciting! I was gonna spend longer deliberating and changing words and I'm still not entirely happy with the ending but I'm pretty proud of it overall so I thought, fuck it.  
> Title is from Bastille's [Warmth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKWZsLV5VgA). I listened to this album a LOT while I was writing this, back when it first came out (I take ages writing fics, okay). It is a lovely song, I highly recommend.  
> (Also, not technically related but EXCITING, I went to London over Christmas and I saw Les Mis and ALSO I saw George Blagden's play and MET HIM and he is beautiful and lovely and I died. Just thought you should all know.)  
> Anyway, I hope you like it! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated.

“It’s your birthday soon,” Cosette said, in a non-committal voice.

Éponine glanced up from where she was sitting, leaning back against a giant rock, sharpening her sword, supplies spread out around her. “Excuse me?”

Cosette looked uncharacteristically awkward, knees pulled up to her chest. “It’s your birthday next week.”

Éponine stared at her. “My birthday?” she spluttered, and Cosette nodded, putting down her own sword and leaning her chin on her knees to stare at Éponine.

“I’ve been working out the days, and it’s next week. Maybe we should do something nice.”

Éponine blinked at her, shocked speechless, then the words spilled out in an angry incredulous rush. “We should do something nice? For my _birthday?_ What could we possibly do? We are on the run from both the infected and the humans, because it turns out that of course humans would still be selfish ruthless bastards at the end of the world. We’re living off the land and stealing what we can. We have at least one near-death experience every day. I am _sharpening a fucking sword._ And you’re thinking about birthdays?”

Cosette frowned. “Well, birthdays are still important.  You don’t need to be so negative.”

Éponine laughed bitterly. “There’s not that much to be happy about. And besides,” she said, driving her sword into the earth beside her with unnecessary force, “I don’t have a great history with birthdays.”

She got to her feet. “I’ll take first watch,” she said, her voice harsh. Cosette didn’t argue.

*****

The next few days were tough. They were passing through a dangerous area, hoping to get to a safe place. They’d heard stories, rumours of a colony, deep in this forest, with humans and safety and protection. But first, they had to pass through _this_. Éponine didn’t know exactly where they were, but this area was infested with the infected. She didn’t know what drew them here, but nevertheless, here they were.

And it was _exhausting._ They’d barely fought off one attack when another arrived. They’d slept fitfully when they could, one of them always on guard, poised to flee at the first hint of trouble.

Éponine leaned back against a tree, her body aching. They’d been fearing for their life for months, but this was concentrated, and although she didn’t want to think too much about it, she couldn’t deny that the attacks felt _deliberate._ But she couldn’t afford to think like that. Because if the infected could communicate and plan... well. Safe to say she preferred to keep thoughts like that hidden.

Cosette was sitting on the grass a couple of feet away, cleaning her knives. She was splattered with blood, and the sleeve of her jacket had torn. She looked drained and tired, eyes hooded and exhaustion in every line of her body. Yet despite the grime on her face and her filthy clothes, she was _beautiful._

Éponine sighed. She’d meant to tell Cosette about her feelings _weeks_ ago, but just as she’d plucked up the courage, something had always happened. They’d been travelling together for over two months, sometimes with others and sometimes alone, and Éponine had had _countless_ opportunities.

She scoffed. She could take on an infected or a gang of humans with a glare and a knife, but she couldn’t tell her travelling companion and only friend that she had feelings for her?

Three weeks ago, she’d had the _perfect_ opportunity. It had been raining, a light drizzle on a warm evening, and Cosette had been dancing in the garden of the abandoned cottage they’d found. She’d been beaming, waltzing around by herself, humming a tune that Éponine vaguely recognised, the melody tugging at her memory. Éponine had been standing back, in the shelter of the doorway, happy just to watch Cosette’s graceful movements over the sodden, overgrown grass. And then Cosette had glanced up at her, grinning, and lifted a hand, beckoning her over. Éponine had laughed and shook her head and protested in vain, but Cosette had been adamant and before long they’d been doing an odd, clumsy, very uncoordinated waltz, Cosette’s humming impeded by her laughter at Éponine’s ungainly dancing.

Dancing in the rain, laughing and holding each other close… it was at least several romantic clichés all in one. But Cosette had been free and happy and Éponine didn’t want to ruin the moment with an unwanted confession. She hadn’t wanted to spoil Cosette’s joy.

_Two_ weeks ago, there’d been another opportunity. A few days before, they’d ran into a trio of other survivors who’d had some luxury goods to trade (incongruous and unnecessary things like sweets and eyeliner and spices, just little things that gave Éponine and Cosette a tiny taste of normalcy) and stories to tell of a _sanctuary_ , a defended safe place in a forest, with humans and self-sustainable farming. Grantaire and Combeferre and Jehan, they’d been called, and Combeferre had told them that he’d found a letter from an old friend in a place they used to hide out. This friend, who Combeferre had thought was dead, had told of a sanctuary he’d set up, and given an approximate location. The trio were hopeful, and that hope was enough to keep them heading through increasingly uninhabitable and infested places.

They’d travelled together for a short while, relishing being able to trade off sleep shifts and feel a little safer, and on the day in question, Éponine and Cosette had parted ways from the others. They didn’t have enough supplies for the long trip, and the trio didn’t have enough to share, as apologetic as they were about it. But they’d given them rough, approximate directions and wished them luck and then the two parties had split up, heading in their different directions.

Cosette and Éponine had continued on for a while and then stopped in a clearing in the forest they were travelling through, to rest and to eat and to think. They’d been sitting side by side, leaning against a huge, wide tree, eating some mediocre food, shoulders pressed together, just enjoying the quiet, for once. It was a mild day, and it wasn’t raining, and it was peaceful.

Éponine, despite herself, had been filled with a hope she hadn’t allowed herself to feel since everything had gone to shit. Maybe they could find a place that they could be safe, that they could start to rebuild their lives, build a community. And she could tell that Cosette was feeling the same faint stirring of hope for a future that they could be around to see.

It was quiet around them, save for the rustling of the trees and the background sounds of animals living their same old, unchanged life, and Cosette was smiling a happy, secretive smile, and Éponine almost told her. But it was so _nice_ , and for once Éponine could see a future, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment. And so she kept it to herself.

And just last week there’d been yet another chance, a strange lull in the fighting, an odd event. They’d come across, of all things, a working bakery in a mostly deserted village. They’d been wandering through the cobbled streets of the village, quiet and subdued, Éponine thinking idly that this would probably have been a nice place to visit, before everything happened. They’d already checked the supermarket, as they always did when near a village or a town, if they could, but they hadn’t found anything, and neither of them had acknowledged the thought, the fear that followed them. The fear that soon, the already scarce food in the shops they passed, the supplies which had been running low in the over two months of looting and stealing, would run out entirely.

And then what would they do?

So they were snappish and worried as they walked through the empty streets, littered with debris from knocked over furniture and broken down doors. Éponine had spotted a discarded soft toy bunny rabbit and it had saddened her more than she’d expected, so they’d both been morose, not talking much.

And then they’d turned on to a main street, and there was a bakery, and there was smoke coming from the chimney, and the smell of baking bread.

They glanced at each other in shock and confusion, and then walked quicker, heading straight for the bakery. The nearer they got, the more delicious the smell seemed, and the more suspicious they got, Éponine’s hand going to rest on the hilt of her sword automatically. In the two minutes it took them to walk to the door (which was red and pretty and disconcertingly normal looking) Éponine was so tense she felt like she was vibrating. They’d been attacked and ambushed more times than she could count, but she hadn’t smelled something this good in _weeks_ and it was making her quite ridiculously hungry. Jesus, she was practically salivating.

Éponine and Cosette stood there, side by side, facing the door. They could hear singing. This did not make them less anxious. They looked at each other and then Éponine cursed under her breath.

“This is fucking stupid,” she muttered, and tentatively raised a hand and knocked on the scratched wood of the door. The singing stopped immediately, and there was a flurry of abrupt noise and movement from the room beyond. The door opened, and standing there was a tiny, wrinkled old lady, holding an absolutely massive and wickedly sharp sword.

Éponine blinked at her. "Wow," she said, and Cosette laughed, a relieved sound, impressed.

The woman had looked at them with piercing eyes and then lowered the sword with a welcoming, grandmotherly smile.

It had transpired that she and her husband had ran a small, self-sufficient bakery, and when the literal zombie apocalypse had happened, they'd used the swords they had stashed in their basement (they told Éponine and Cosette that they used to collect them, restore antique swords, for some reason), and had just continued on as before. They made enough bread for themselves and they traded with any humans who came through, and they killed any infected they saw.

It had been really very nice, the old woman had said. She'd never been more relaxed. They made the bread, they read books and played chess and she was teaching her husband to play guitar. They were running short of books, though, she had said, and Éponine and Cosette had both felt bemusedly guilty when they told her that as they’d been on the run for weeks, and that books, as sad as it was, were not a valuable supply.

Cosette and Éponine had spent an alarmingly ordinary few hours with the old couple. The old man, who was also very short and smiley, made them play chess with him, and even working together they were slaughtered, and excuses of “I’ve not played chess in months!” were not accepted.

Cosette had asked how they were alive, how they survived staying on one place. The lady had chided her for her bluntness, but the man had chuckled.

“It’s not their fault,” he said, “we don’t look like we can defend ourselves. But we do alright. Rosie has her sword and we have some old guns that we found, and Rosie’s a bit of a mechanical whiz so she fixed them right up. We do alright.”

And then the couple had plied them with bread, some wrapped up to last them a couple of days, and some fresh and hot, even with some (admittedly terrible) tea to go with it.

“We make it ourselves,” John explained, and they looked apologetic. “Sorry!”

Éponine glanced over at Cosette, who looked overwhelmed, hands clutching the hot roll as if her life depended on it, and then Éponine sat down on a chair, beckoning Cosette over. “Come here,” she said, “sit down, drink your tea,” and Cosette did.

“It’s just…” Cosette started, as Éponine drank another mouthful of the tea. It was palatable at least, and hot, after all. “They’re just so happy. Look at them!”  Rosie and John were chuckling away to themselves across the room. “I just don’t… I wonder… if we’ll ever get anything like that.” And then she turned away, taking a bite of her roll.

Éponine was silent, struggling for words, when all she wanted to say was “that could be us one day, me and you, fighting zombies but safe and baking bread and playing chess and reading” but she _couldn’t._ She couldn’t promise that. She didn’t even know if they would survive the week. She couldn’t find the words to comfort and she couldn’t find the courage to confess, so instead she simply pressed her shoulder against Cosette’s, and ate the rest of her roll, hating herself the whole time.

They’d said goodbye to the couple with genuine sadness and regret. But Rosie had given them a spare knife she had, and John had hidden more supplies in their bags, (which they hadn’t noticed until an hour after they’d left). They’d shared hugs all round, Éponine almost collapsing into Rosie’s comforting arms, and left with a promise to return with new books as soon as they could. “Sci-fi and fantasy if you can!” Rosie had shouted after them. “We want to branch out!” And Cosette and Éponine had nodded and smiled and ignored the unspoken words. _“If you survive.”_

And now here they were, sitting in a clearing, heading to a sanctuary that might not be there, and their supplies were rapidly dwindling, no matter how much they tried to ration. If this place did exist, they needed to get there soon.

*****

It was two days later. They’d walked god knows how many miles, fought god know how many infected. Éponine had a gash on her leg, fortunately from a human attack and not an infected, but it was agonising and impeding their progress and, while she wasn’t mentioning it to Cosette, it wasn’t healing as well as it should be and she was worried. Their supplies were almost gone. And the tiny little bit of hope that Éponine had kept with her this entire time was almost entirely vanished.

Cosette was still stubbornly pushing on, refusing to accept the inevitable, but Éponine knew that they weren’t going to make it, and her list of reasons not to tell Cosette how she felt was shrinking. How could she worry about rejection when they were going to die in the next few days?

“Let’s take a break,” Cosette said abruptly, and Éponine almost collapsed to the ground, finding a tree to slump against and tilting the head back to lean against the cool bark. Her leg felt worse than ever, and she tried to surreptitiously adjust her shitty bandages without Cosette noticing. She sighed, bone tired and in pain and so close to giving up. What was the fucking point, really? What were they hoping to achieve? There wasn’t going to be an _end._ No-one was looking for a cure to the infection because everyone was too busy trying to fucking _survive._ No-one knew the cause, no-one was studying it, no-one was _fixing_ it. There wasn’t anything to be done, except try and survive.

And she was tired of that.

A noise distracted her from her morbid thoughts, and she glanced over at Cosette, who was rifling through her bag determinedly. Maybe now was a good time. Éponine straightened up, wincing and instantly trying to cover it up. Fortunately, Cosette hadn’t noticed, still focused on the contents of her bag. She seemed to be looking for something. Éponine took a deep breath. She could do this. She’d had so long to think about it, after all…

“Cosette?” she said tentatively, cursing her uncertainty, her fear. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah,” Cosette said distractedly, still rummaging. “Give me just one second…” and then she made a triumphant sound and spun round to face Éponine, something hidden behind her back.

“Before you say anything,” Cosette said, eyes gleaming as she walked over to Éponine, “I have something for you.”

Éponine blinked up at her, confused. “What? Why?”

Cosette beamed, blindingly bright. “Happy birthday!” she said excitedly, crouching down in front of Éponine, and thrusting the object she’d been hiding into Éponine’s unresisting hands.

Éponine stared blankly down at it, scarcely able to place the object, so unfamiliar was it to her here, so alien in this context. A big bar of Cadbury’s milk chocolate, the shiny purple wrapper a little scuffed and battered, but still sealed, still fresh. She was aware that she was gaping, mouth open, genuinely astonished. “It’s… it’s chocolate,” she said stupidly, looking up at Cosette, who looked faintly worried, as if she wasn’t sure of Éponine’s reaction. “You’ve got me chocolate? My _favourite chocolate?”_

A small smile spread across Cosette’s face, and Éponine felt an involuntary one of her own appear. “How did you _know?_ How did you get this? Just… _how?”_

Cosette was grinning now, delighted by Éponine’s incredulous face. “The old couple had a stash,” she explained, looking so goddamn proud of herself. “And I told them how much you loved it, and that your birthday was coming up soon, and they gave me a giant bar. Told me I had to bring extra books back to make up for it. Worth it, though.”

Éponine shook her head. “But how did you know I loved this chocolate?”

“You told me,” Cosette said simply, and Éponine remembered. Remembered a talk about the things they missed most, and Éponine talking about bubble baths and comedy TV shows and take-away Chinese food, and Cosette talking about deep muscle massages and rom-coms and butter popcorn, and then Éponine saying that she’d forego literally everything if she could just have some plain old basic Cadbury’s milk chocolate. But that had been _weeks_ ago.

“But that was weeks ago,” Éponine said, and Cosette blushed. It was beautiful.

“I remembered,” Cosette said, as if that was any kind of answer, and Éponine was overcome by a sudden rush of emotion. And the words just… came out.

“I love you,” she blurted, and Cosette froze, and Éponine kept speaking, all the words she’d been choking back coming out in a huge jumbled flood.

“I don’t know how long I’ve loved you for but _god_ I do. I love your smirk and your smile and I love trying to make you laugh because it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. And I love the way you sigh when I say something too sad, and I love the way you try and make me feel better when everything’s especially shit and I’ve got no hope left. I love how you fight and I love that you’ve got so good with a sword and I love how serious you look when you’re sharpening it. And if none of this shit had happened I’d probably have ran into at a bar or a party and I’d have asked you on a date and we’d have got coffee and it would have been awkward but we’d have got over it and I’m just angry we never got that chance but I’m glad I met you at all. And I wanted to tell you so many times but I always chickened out but what does it matter really, at the end of the world?”

Éponine shuddered to a halt, throat horrifyingly tight, and her hands clenched tight around the chocolate in her lap, and she couldn’t look at Cosette, terrified to see her expression. Pitying, disgusted… Éponine had seen these expressions on people-she-loved’s faces before, and she couldn’t see that on Cosette’s face. It would break her.

“Éponine…” Cosette said, voice quiet and with a tone that Éponine couldn’t identify. “Éponine, look at me, please?”

Éponine looked up, meeting Cosette’s eyes, feeling worryingly close to tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Cosette shook her head.

“No, don’t apologise,” Cosette said, and her eyes were bright and filled with an emotion that Éponine couldn’t decipher. They were very close together. Éponine could see the tiny freckles on Cosette’s nose. “Don’t apolo-”

There was a noise from across the clearing and Cosette broke off, both of their heads snapping up, to see… oh _shit._

Cosette leapt to her feet, snatching up her sword. There was a group of infected entering the clearing, a big group. Éponine thought distantly that it could probably have been called a _horde_ , as she scrambled awkwardly and painfully to her feet, grabbing her sword, ensuring her knives were safe on her belt, and carefully sliding the chocolate bar into her bag before slinging it over her shoulders. The infected were walking slowly, terrifyingly coordinated, armed with human weapons- swords and knives and one of them had an axe, of all things.

“I don’t like how organised they’re getting,” Éponine muttered, finally voicing the thought that had been nagging at her for days.

Cosette breathed in shakily, and raised her sword. “Me neither,” she said quietly, and then glanced over at Éponine. “We can do this, though. They’re still slower. We can do it.”

And Éponine nodded, drinking in the sight of Cosette angry and tense and ready to kick ass, and then they charged at the infected.

The fight was a blur to Éponine, who was dizzy from the injury and stupidly shaky with emotion, but she fought instinctively, like she had been for weeks, and she sliced and chopped and slashed and her and Cosette were a great team, had been for _ages,_ and it was all going as well as could be expected, and they were making headway, and Éponine found a spurt of energy… and then an infected lunged at Cosette just as she whirled to stab another, and Éponine didn’t even think before she moved. She lunged right in front of the infected… and its blade went into her abdomen in an agonising spike of fire and pain.

She fell. She vaguely heard Cosette’s inarticulate howl of horror, and saw her move almost in slow motion, taking the infected out with one smooth motion before dropping to her knees next to Éponine. Éponine could see her lips moving but everything was fuzzy and sounds were coming from far away and she felt like she was underwater and drifting away and all she could see was Cosette’s desperate eyes and then everything went dark.

*****

Éponine opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, rather bemused. The last thing she remembered was dying, so the whole opening-her-eyes thing was a surprise. She twitched her fingers. They moved. That was comforting. She wriggled her toes. She flexed her wrist. And then, carefully, she rotated her head, surveying her surroundings.

She was in some kind of small tent. The canvas roof was white above her, stained with green, and she guessed that it was high enough that she could probably stand up. She was lying on a low pallet, an oddly comfortable mattress on top of what she assumed was wood. Her bag was a couple of feet away, looking untouched, and her sword alongside it.

And then, having assessed her whereabouts as much as she could, she turned her attention to herself. She felt floaty, woozy, as if she’d been heavily drugged, which, seeing as she distinctly remembered being stabbed, sounding about right. The only question was, where had she got high-strength painkillers from? She shook her head. That line of thought was pointless, given the little information she had.

Her whole body was aching, but in a vague, distant way. No doubt she’d be in agony when the painkillers wore off, but right now she was determined to carry out a thorough inspection of her injuries.

She had done this before, laid aching and tried to work out where she'd been hurt, and she'd done it before the apocalypse (although she tried not to think about that time. Some things she didn't miss). She had a tried and tested routine (and wasn't that sad), which took longer than usual- it turned out that grogginess didn't make for an easy evaluation- but eventually she slumped back down, breathing deeply. Her abdomen, where she'd been stabbed, was painful even though the drugs, but considering that she'd been _stabbed_ , this wasn't a surprise. The surprise was that it had been bandaged, neatly and efficiently, as if by a professional. Her wounded leg had also been treated, and felt better than it had since it had happened- it seemed to finally be healing. Her head ached, and her whole body felt bruised and battered, but all things considered she was in fairly good shape.

And now that she'd assessed her own injuries, her mind turned to the worry she'd been ignoring. Where was she? And, more importantly, _where was Cosette?_

She was under no illusions about her current ability to fight, or even to move. Wherever she was, they'd clearly taken her in and treated her injuries, which didn't seem like the actions of someone who wished her harm, but the worry was there. She could only hope that Cosette was safe. There was nothing she could do.

She was distracted from her anxious thoughts by muted voices coming from outside the tent. At least three people, she thought, but their voices were quiet and she couldn't hear what they were saying.

And then the flap of the tent opened, and someone came in. Panic filled her, although she tried to suppress it. _They’ve bandaged you, gave you painkillers, they're not going to hurt you…_ but it was no use. Weeks on the run, distrusting everyone except Cosette _(where was Cosette?!)_ had filled her with instinctive mistrust of all new people. Her breath sped up, and her heartbreak picked up, and she tried to calm herself. This would _not_ be a good time for a panic attack.

“Hello,” said the stranger cheerily. He was short and pale (pasty, even), and walked with a limp and a cane, but he had steel in his eyes and she knew he could easily take her down in her current state. “Glad to see you awake!”

“Who are you?” Éponine said, hearing the panic in her voice. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and her chest felt tight. “Where am I? Who _are_ you? _Where's Cosette?”_ Her voice cracked on the last question and she felt a sob well up inside her.

“It’s okay,” the man tried to calm her, but she couldn't slow her breaths. Fuck fuck _fuck,_ she wasn't calm and she couldn't breathe and _where was Cosette_ and…

And then the tent flap opened again, and in walked Cosette, looking bright and healthy and _alive_ and _safe_ and if Éponine had thought she was going to cry before, the need was even stronger now, a massive weight of worry lifted off her shoulders.

“Éponine!” Cosette gasped, and then she beamed, her face lighting up, unbelievably relieved and happy. Éponine blinked at her, breathing still shallow and panicked, hoping for an explanation. “Hey, it’s okay, don't worry, breathe with me,” Cosette said, sliding into the low chair next to Éponine’s bed and grabbing her hand. “It's okay, it’s okay,” and Éponine breathed, her breathing slowing, as Cosette murmured soothing things, not focusing on the words but on the tone, on the sound of Cosette’s voice, comforting and everything she'd missed.

“Fuck, Éponine, I thought you were going to _die,”_ Cosette said finally. “I thought you were _gone_. How do you feel?”

Éponine clutched tight to Cosette’s hand. “I… I’m confused,” she said hoarsely. “What happened? Where are we? Who was that?”

“We made it,” Cosette said simply, smile even brighter. “We made it to the safe place.”

Éponine drew in a shuddering breath, not quite believing it. “We… we made it?”

Cosette nodded, eyes shining. “That was Joly, he’s their doctor of sorts, and there are so _many people._ They have shifts for guards and patrols and they have vegetable patches and chickens and a fucking cow and people take turns cooking and it’s organised and they said it’s not perfect, it’s a work in progress, but it’s safer than anywhere we’ve been. We can _relax._ ”

_Relax._ Éponine couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a chance to relax.

Cosette seemed to sense her panic. “Yeah, I know, it’s a lot to take in. it’s all a bit overwhelming, but we’re safe. And you can get better. And speaking of,” she said, suddenly serious. “What the hell did you think you were doing, jumping in front of me? I thought you were going to die.”

“I’m sorry,” Éponine said, but she wasn’t, and she was pretty sure from Cosette’s sigh that she knew that. How could Éponine apologise for saving Cosette’s life? She’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“How did we get here, though?” Éponine asked, changing the subject before Cosette could say anything more on the subject. Cosette frowned but accepted the new topic grudgingly.

“Well, after you were _stabbed,_ I went a bit… let’s say intense? You were bleeding out and you weren’t moving and I didn’t know if you were even alive, and there were still so _many_ Infected, even after all the ones we’d taken down, and I just kind of… went a bit mad? With grief and rage, I guess, and I took down a _lot,_ got stabbed a couple of times and didn’t feel it in the moment, and then, well. I thought I’d imagined it at first, it was bizarre, but I killed one Infected and another was there before I was ready, and I thought that was the end, and then someone shot it with a _bow and arrow._ One second I think it’s going to kill me, the next it’s lying on the ground with an arrow sticking out of its head. It was surreal.”

Éponine blinked, and then part of Cosette’s story lodged in her overwhelmed brain. “I’m sorry, you were _stabbed?_ ”

Cosette scoffed. “Like you’re one to talk,” she said, “and anyway, I’m fine now. Been bandaged up and I’m all fine.”

Éponine pursed her lips and Cosette laughed. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

“Good,” said Éponine. “It’d be a shame if I almost died protecting you and then _you_ died.” She laughed and then the smile faded from her lips as Cosette frowned.

“You sacrificed yourself for me,” Cosette said quietly. “Why?”

Éponine laughed bitterly. “You heard my terribly incoherent confession speech,” she said, pressing her lips together tightly. “You know why.”

Colette took a shuddering breath. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were _dead_ and then I'd never get a chance to tell you…” she trailed off, looking away, and Éponine swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

Cosette looked up, looked directly at Éponine, and her eyes were bright and burning. “I never got to tell you that I love you too. I've loved you for ages. _I love you.”_

Éponine’s heartbeat was pounding in her ears and all she could see was Cosette, all she could hear was Cosette, Cosette was everywhere and all that mattered were those words. _I love you too._

“ _Cosette,”_ Éponine whispered, and Cosette smiled at her, and it was stunning. “I love you, I _love_ you, _I love you…”_ and it was all she could stay, a litany of _Cosette_ and _I love you_ and Cosette was crying and Eponine’s own face was wet because they were alive and they were safe and _Cosette loved her too._

“Éponine,” Cosette said, and she said her name like it was something precious, “can I kiss you?”

Éponine took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. “Yes,” she said, “ _yes.”_

And Cosette did, leaning down and pressing her lips gently to Éponine’s. And Éponine melted, in a way that would have been embarrassing except that all she could think about was Cosette, and Cosette’s hair was in her face and Cosette’s hands were still holding hers tightly and she was so filled with love and relief and _happiness_.

And then Cosette pressed down and Éponine’s world narrowed in a burst of agony, and she let out a yelp of pain, and Cosette almost leapt away from her.

“ _Shit”,_ she said, looking horrified. “I'm so sorry! _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry,”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Éponine said hurriedly, but she doubted that there was any reassurance is her voice, considering that she was taking deep, pained breaths.

“I forgot,” Cosette said, shamefaced. “I've wanted to kiss you for so long.”

Éponine beamed, pain practically forgotten, feeling quite deliriously happy. “That's okay,” she said graciously, and then laughed. “It’s more than okay.”

And Cosette smiled, and Éponine forgot all about her pain, forgot about everything but Cosette and her smile. “I love you,” Éponine said again, and she knew she wouldn't tire of saying it, knew she had weeks’ worth stored away, but from the look on Cosette’s face, she wouldn't tire of hearing it.

And Cosette sat down on the hard ground next to Éponine, and held her hands, and Éponine felt the hope fill her., and she remembered all her thought of a future with Cosette. Maybe that future wasn’t as impossible as she’d thought. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t usually do end-of-fic author notes but I have some things to say! Firstly, I should say that I have no fucking clue how bakeries work, and I don't know if one could be self-sustaining, with no power. That part might not be accurate. Also, it is possible to recover from stab wounds to the abdomen, depending on where exactly you’re stabbed, and how quickly you get medical attention (yes, I did google it). Just take it with a pinch of salt…  
> When I started this, I had one scene in mind: Cosette tracking down chocolate, and giving it to Éponine who was in love with her in an apocalyptic world. I really didn't intend for it to take so long to get to that point…  
> One day I’ll write a long Éponine/Cosette where there's no almost death. Maybe.  
> I should say that my friend Sadaf read this and gave me some advice with regards to the timeline and the tenses, advice which I proceeded to ignore. So if the part with the flashbacks is confusing, do let me know, and then Sadaf can say “I told you so”, and be all smug. Although, Sadaf did suggest I called this “spicy ole apocalypse”, due to autocorrect and them making fun of me, so maybe I shouldn’t take any of their advice…  
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/holIyshort) \- come and say hi!


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